by Jude Coyle

Created on: October 26, 2009   Last Updated: October 27, 2009

Once when I was in high school, and I was in a hurry, I rushed down a flight of stairs and tripped over my own feet. I landed at the bottom of the stairs, on hands and knees, with my books spread all over the floor. With the exception of the one security guard everyone feared, no one was in the hall. He rushed over and helped me up. "Are you hurt," he asked. I kind of growled and brushed myself off as he gathered up my books. "You're fine. Your pride is more wounded than the rest of you." He was right.

I thought of him years later when I took another spill that was even more humiliating. My husband Bill, my 15 year old daughter Becki, and I were on vacation in Philadelphia, and it was my 51st birthday. We planned to celebrate at an Amish restaurant in the Lancaster area, but as usual, we were running low on money. If we wanted to see all we could we had to make choices. So my choice was that we drive into Philadelphia and play it by ear. The others agreed.

At the top of our list of places we wanted to see was Eastern State Penitentiary, which is reputed to be haunted. And we wanted a Philadelphia steak sandwich. A guide at the prison gave us directions to a place he liked. We took his advice, which included a bit of a hike, we ate and we enjoyed it very much.

After that we decided to take a ghost walk. We found a quaint ice cream parlor in the old part of town where they sold tickets. So we bought two, one for Becki and I. While we waited we had ice cream cones.

We joined our group just outside. There were nice young families, and there were some young people as well. The guide arrived with lantern in hand just as the sun was settling. He was dressed in 18th Century attire, including a crumpled hat and a long cape. When ready, he lit his lantern and held it above his head. "Anyone with tickets for the 8:30 ghost walk, please join me over here". He led us across the street to Independence Hall.

We heard stories about how statues of Benjamin Franklin leave their mounts to walk around, and about Benedict Arnold's wife who still dances in the ball rooms of a beautiful old mansion. We learned about the lady with the lamp who walked the streets every morning during the influenza outbreak of the 1790's, calling out the dead. And how she can be seen in the early morning hours even now. And he told us some modern stories about famous or not so famous residents.

City developers, whether by accident or on purpose, kept up the rugged old cobblestone streets, and I was

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